


This Ship Will Carry Our Bodies Safe to Shore

by AlleyMoott



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Character Death, M/M, Major character death - Freeform, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-31
Updated: 2015-05-31
Packaged: 2018-04-02 05:52:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4048630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlleyMoott/pseuds/AlleyMoott
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hey, it’s okay. I’m okay. </p><p>When those words appeared scrawled against the soft inside of his wrist, Derek’s first thought was that his mate and him would be involved in some kind of accident and they’d died in front of him. The thought used to scare him when he was a kid, the thought of being responsible for someone’s last minutes, of holding someone’s hand, brushing soft strands of hair out of their eyes and assuring them everything would be just fine made his heart race and forced his wolf into the surface.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Ship Will Carry Our Bodies Safe to Shore

_Hey, it’s okay. I’m okay._

When those words appeared scrawled against the soft inside of his wrist, Derek’s first thought was that his mate and him would be involved in some kind of accident and they’d die in front of him. The thought used to scare him when he was a kid, the thought of being responsible for someone’s last minutes, of holding someone’s hand, brushing soft strands of hair out of their eyes and assuring them everything would be just fine made his heart race and forced his wolf into the surface.

It made sense to him back then that his soul mate would be a human, and that he, as a werewolf would be forced to outlive them. So he learnt to be gentle in the face of danger, learnt how to take the pain and comfort a dying human. Laura used to tease him about it, since while she was training to fall into the steps of the Alpha, he was hanging out with their dad and little cousins, learning about bruises, scratches and the unlimited ways in which human bodies could be rendered useless over time.

Until Paige.

Derek fell for her so ridiculously fast that it was obvious for everyone in the family that she was _the one_.  So no one said anything when, as the Alphas came into town, Derek became more protective and distant.

No one but his parents knew Derek’s words, so no one else could’ve possibly known that while Derek was thrilled to have met his match he was also dreading the day in which he’d be forced to take the pain away from her as he watched the last traces of life leave her body. But he was ready to take on anything as long as it meant his soul mate would be okay, that in the end he was going to take care of her. He’d be exactly what she needed.

Only Paige’s last words weren’t for him.

Her pleading to end it, end the pain, allow her to rest, those were not the words practically burnt into his skin. But that didn’t mean he loved her any less, and God, did he love her. Loved her so much that he stayed right where he was, her body held carefully in his arms as he took the pain away –more than he had ever experienced, more than scrapes and bruises because if death was anything, it wasn’t kind. He looked her straight in the eye and smiled, one hand moving carefully to brush the hair away from her eyes as she smiled back at him and he said “It’s okay, you’re okay.”

And she whispered “I know, I have you.” Before the light burnt out of her eyes and Derek stopped feeling the pain burning in his veins.

She was gone.

His mother found him sitting on the very same spot who knows how many hours later, clutching her body with tired resignation. Because she wasn’t it…. She wasn’t it and he thought he was ready, but he wasn’t. Her death tore a piece out of him, one that would never be replaced with _anything_ , and she wasn’t even his soulmate so how was he expecting to be able to live through losing what amounted to the love of his life and the reason he walked the earth.

Talia mistook his ashen appearance for the trauma of losing his soulmate, the color of his eyes for grief instead of an effect of having taken someone’s life –a mercy, but murder all the same.

“Oh my sweet boy.” She croaked as she knelt down beside him and took his face in her hands “I’m sorry you had to lose her. I—“

“It wasn’t her.” He interrupted her before she could go deeper into the issue “It wasn’t… she wasn’t…”

 _She wasn’t mine_. Is what he wanted to say, but the words died on his throat, because while Paige had been someone else’s intended, he had been there for her in her last moment. Her last breath was his, as his heart belonged to her. So saying that because of a couple of words she meant any less than what she did would have been an insult to her memory.

“Her words weren’t mine.” Is what he settled on saying. And Talia understood.

Everything that followed kind of blurred together into a chaotic haze in his mind. He doesn’t really grasp the details of what happened, only that Talia had to drive into town to talk to Deaton and someone else to make up a story about Paige’s death –“We’ll say it was a mountain lion.”- and Laura and their father had come to pick him up. He remembers the comforting weight of Laura’s arm around his shoulders and the way her hands tightened around him once he told them it hadn’t been Paige. He remembers the smell of her perfume when he hid his face against her neck and the way her fingers traced the words on his wrist with so much care and reverence he felt like crying all over again.

The world was darker and easier after that. He would never meet his mate, he had decided. If they never saw each other then they’d never die and Derek would never have to say goodbye to them. It was simple as that. He would never have to lose anyone ever again… and that was okay.

Until Kate happened.

He didn’t have the excuse of a possible soul bond to shield himself with, because he knew plain as day that she wasn’t his. There was none of the feelings he had thought he’d experimented with Paige, none of the anticipation, the breathless excitement or the blush on his face when he thought about her. Kate wasn’t his, could never be his, but being with her  was easy. Being with her meant not being inside his head for a while, meant not being inside a room full of people that could smell his every thought. People who stared at him pityingly, who tried to find solutions to a problem that didn’t even exist. Giving up on his soulmate wasn’t a bad thing, Derek wanted to tell them, he wasn’t giving up on life, he was choosing to live it.

So he allowed Kate to drown him in her smell and her touch, every caress muted the voices in his head and made him tired in a way that meant he’d be able to sleep at night. That there’d be no more dreams.

But even nightmares were better than the sound of sirens and the heart wrenching sound of Laura’s screams and Peter’s stillness. He would’ve taken endless nights lying in bed awake any day instead of the amount of charred bodies the BHPD pulled out of the husk of their house.

When Paige died, he thought he had felt pain. But taking her life was nothing compared to causing his own family’s slaughter. If his eyes hadn’t been blue already… they would’ve turned from shame.

***

Years later as he’s standing in front of yet another dead body he looks down to his arm and covers the words with one hand.

_Hey, it’s okay. I’m okay._

The mark is a kindness he’s sure he doesn’t deserve. Death has been following him for years, branded him at a tender age with words that spelled out tragedy for someone he might never get to love, may never realize is his until it’s too late.

Standing over Laura’s body he makes a promise to himself: To never love, to close off, to leave Beacon Hills and never turn back. If there’s one place in the world where he’d meet his intended, it has to be here. This town has taken everything away from him, and he’s sure it’s just waiting to take yet another thing, the one that’ll surely destroy him.

He closes his eyes and covers her body with cold earth, taking care of planting a wolfsbane flower nearby to help her rest in peace, away from prying eyes.

And he goes on with his life.

***

His life is a dull grey with sudden bursts of a vibrant yellowish color that doesn’t know when to fucking shut up. A fucking color that can’t use his mouth to say anything that isn’t witty, sarcastic or even mildly insulting.

Stiles is a fresh breath of air for his frayed nerves. He doesn’t have to be careful with him, he’s not breakable or kind in the way Paige and his little cousins were. He never has to fear that Stiles might be the one, because Stiles would never try to spare his feelings the way his intended will. Even when they’re suspended in a pool with no possible solution, Derek never fears Stiles will open his mouth to assure him everything will be just fine, because that’s just not who he is. Not to Derek at least.

He doesn’t have to fear he’ll lose him because Stiles _can’t be his_. He’s too alive and vibrant to even be considered a part of Derek who’s dull and a little frayed in places.

He doesn’t know he’s falling for him until it’s too late and he’s holding Boyd’s body in his arms. Another death caused directly by him.

Erica’s death had been horrible, but at least he hadn’t played that much of an active role in it. Boyd died by his own hands.

“Hey,” Stiles calls and Derek’s blood runs cold because _he can’t lose Stiles right now_.

“Don’t.” He cuts him off, his voice is gruffer and more vulnerable than he’d like in this situation but it does the trick and whatever Stiles was going to say is swallowed back with an audible gulp.

The hand never leaves his shoulder though, and even though the loft is completely silent he can hear the words Stiles must be speaking in his mind as if he were screaming them right beside his ear.

“It’s not your fault.” He imagines he’d say. And he wants to laugh because it really, really is. Death follows him around like a pathetic stalker and there’s nothing he can do about it.

When Stiles stands up and tells him Scott and him will talk to Deaton and someone else whose name he doesn’t catch to fix the details of Boyd’s death he feels the creeping feeling of déjà vu take over his body with a shudder. But this time there’s no Laura to lean against and no father to drive him home. Cora, on the other side of the loft, is as distant as a memory and for the first time Derek realizes how truly alone he is.

Maybe it would’ve been better if the Alpha Pack had killed _him_ instead of Boyd.

“Derek,” Stiles calls before he steps away “are you going to be okay?” He asks in the hesitant voice he only ever uses around Scott, and only when Scott isn’t being infuriating, which isn’t often anymore.

Derek wants to open his mouth to assure him he’ll be fine but he finds that his throat is dry and his lips are pressed together. It seems like lying will take everything away from him and he’s already as exposed as he’s ever been. He nods his head, only a little hesitantly, praying that someone will notice.

If Stiles does he doesn’t show it.

***

A while later Cora tells him Stiles asked about him and Paige.

Derek tenses and asks what they told him.

Cora tells him that Peter lied and Derek breathes a sigh of relief. He knew he would.

He wants to ask about her, what she knew and shared, but from the way in which her shoulders tense and draw up against her neck he doesn’t think it’s a wise idea.

***

Things get easier after that.

He gives up his power to help Cora and then he helps her book it out of town and into a friendly pack Laura had mentioned a few times when they were still trying to make a home out of New York. Cora tries to convince him to leave.

“This is a town for the dead.” She uses the same words he’d used before, but now he has a new purpose, he can’t leave.

“I’ll be fine.”

“Physically.” She mutters “You’ll go to waste if you stay any longer.” She threatens, and he knows she’s right… he just doesn’t really care anymore “At least come with me to the city, drop me off with the Caldwells and stay for a few days.”

Derek opens his mouth to protest that a few days would eventually turn into months and that into a year or two but Cora sees the thought in his eyes and scowls at him.

“At least promise me you’ll come to visit, you jerk.” She grumbles “Even if it’s not true,” she adds after a moment’s pause “Tell me you’ll come. Please.”

“Next winter.” He promises, and the words taste like ash and emptiness in his mouth “I’ll go ice skating with you, like when we were kids.”

Cora smiles at him with wet eyes. She obviously doesn’t believe him, but they both understand that this is the only way things can go. It’s better to part with a promise than with a goodbye.

At least this way they both can pretend that they’ll actually see each other again.

***

They go ice skating the following winter. Cora’s happy and full of life.

She met him on the airport with blushing cheeks and at least two unnecessary layers of clothing, which she explained away by saying that one of the kids in the pack was human and he refused to wear winter clothes because everyone else was okay foregoing them.

Derek smiled at her, a soft smile reserved for moments in which Scott behaved like a level headed Alpha –which happened more and more often as of late-, and had to blink back dark spots from his eyes when Cora’s flash went off as she took a picture of him she later posted on her facebook with a silly message that got over 40 likes in ten minutes.

The video of him falling on flat on his ass four times in two minutes got 50… and varying responses from both packs.

The comment from Stiles warms his chest and chills him to the bone at the same time. If Cora notices she says nothing.

Derek takes a deep breath and allows Cora to create an account for himself. He accepts the pack and old New York acquaintances as friends and something in his chest loosens.

Derek starts to think he might get used to this ‘being alive’ thing.

***

He looks at Lydia’s empty eyes as she twirls the ‘Keep Calm and Call Batman’ mug Cora had sent for his birthday in her hands. He doesn’t ask what she’s doing in his apartment, doesn’t need to ask to know that someone came to her with the same tale Peter told Stiles about him losing his soulmate very early on. It doesn’t take a genius to see the way her wrist was almost scrubbed raw and how she’s doing everything she can not to stare at his mark. He sighs.

“I don’t know if it’ll get better.” He offers, because it’s the only truth he knows and lying to Lydia is never going to end up being anything less than a mistake.

She remains silent.

“I don’t know what Peter told you,” She tenses “but it’s not true. Paige wasn’t my soulmate.”

Lydia’s nails make a faint clicking noise against the porcelain of her mug. Her face is controlled and she’s folded in a way that makes her look tiny against the worn cushions of his couch.

“I know.” She acknowledges. Her voice is a far cry from her usual self. Derek doesn’t comment. “And it wasn’t him that told me. It was Cora.” Derek frowns “She told me before she left that you… that you’d need someone here to keep you afloat… and then she told me about Paige.”

“She asked you to help me?”

“She asked me to let her know when… if…” She trails off. Her hands tighten against the mug and her upper lip quivers for a moment. “If you found your soulmate.”

“Okay.”

Lydia takes a slow breath in before she begins to crumble before his eyes.

“I just didn’t know where else to go I—“ She shakes her head “Everyone else is… they wouldn’t—“ A sobs break off her words and even though Derek hasn’t been gentle to anyone in _years_ it takes him a second to move closer to her and press a comforting arm against her shoulder. His left hand moves to take a hold of the mug to put it away on the coffee table as Lydia falls easily into his arms.

“Shhh.” He whispers, even though he knows words are pretty much useless. “You can cry. It’s okay to cry.”

And cry she does.

Derek doesn’t fool himself into thinking he can somehow make this better. Doesn’t even try to pretend that he knows what Lydia is going through. All he knows is that death takes a toll on you and that when he thought he had lost his soulmate he felt his heart being ripped away from his chest. He can’t imagine what Lydia is going through right now. What she must have felt when Allison died in someone else’s arms, when she realized she died trying to protect her.

All he can do is offer his shoulder and hold her as the worst of her panic eases out of her through helpless cries.

And as he holds her in his arms and allows her to peel back the heavy armor around her heart before she can put it back on he sends a though out to Laura and his father, silently thanking them for allowing him to learn how to be gentle and reassuring.

_“You cannot take emotional pain away,” his father had explained one night “not in the same way you can physical pain. All you can do is hold on and be there.”_

So he does.

***

Before he realizes what’s happening Lydia’s become a constant in his life. His phone is steadily filled with messages from Cora and her reminding him to eat and change clothes. He doesn’t even begin to question his relationship with the younger girl until he’s woken up at 8:15 a Sunday morning by the earthy smell of coffee and a pile of papers hitting him on the face.

“Houses.” Lydia explains before he even has time to properly wake up “You’re picking three, we’re seeing them today and you’re buying one tomorrow. Cora said she wanted pictures and a room.”

He sits up, wondering how this is his life before an icy glare from Lydia reminds him what’s at stake here: his sanity. If he doesn’t listen to her, then she’ll just report back to Cora and he really doesn’t want the two of them to team up against him EVER. AGAIN.

They end up looking at houses for what’s left of the morning, and this time Lydia is actually willing to listen to him –probably because she had already gone through all of them beforehand- but hey, at least he didn’t have to spend five hours listening to her and Cora criticizing every single one of his ‘fashion choices’.

***

He’s hanging up an old oil painting of Laura in his new living room when there’s a sudden knock on the door. Thinking it’s Lydia back from terrorizing the pack he walks to the front door, covered in dust and grime from a day’s work only to find the entire pack standing on his doorstep with hopeful smiles and five boxes of pizza.

He hesitates for a moment before he remembers Lydia’s words from forever ago.

_“I know you don’t want to hear this but… if you want to make this any easier on yourself you’re going to have to let them in. They’re your pack as well. Don’t act like you don’t know it.”_

So he plasters a hesitant smile on his face, and lets them in.

Scott pats in on the shoulder as he walks by him. Derek knows it’s part of the Alpha’s instinct to leave a trace of his scent in his strayed pack mate. It must be driving him crazy how he smells of Lydia and very faintly of _other_ pack mates but not completely pack. Even if he isn’t really aware of it.

The others follow at a more sedate pace, leaving their things on a pile in the tiny closet by the door and walking around the brightly lit up first floor. Lydia’s hand closes around his bicep for a brief second as she directs a smile his way and then pulls her phone out, ready to take a myriad of pictures that would later be forwarded to his sister.

He’s huffing in amused annoyance when he realizes there’s someone else standing at the door. Stiles.

He turns to face him with a smile that’s a lot more genuine than the one from before and Stiles snort and repeats Lydia’s motion but doesn’t step inside. He just stands there, hand warm and comforting against his skin, and then smiles. His eyes deviate to the painting in his hands and the smile turns softer, private. Derek feels a breath stuck in his throat as an all too familiar feeling starts to creep up from his toes, a feeling of swelling music and tinkling laughter.

He swallows against the sudden lump on his throat and says “It was Laura’s.” before he’s completely voiceless against this new revelation.

Stiles nods in understanding, hand moving away from his body and Derek almost _whimpers_ because this is ridiculous.

Stiles walks into the house, following the noise of their pack and Derek--- And Derek’s _so fucked_. If he thought what he felt for Paige was powerful, that she was his mate, then this is… Derek is going to die because it feels like suddenly there’s a compass in his chest pointing towards Stiles, and the blood in his veins used to call anger and vengeance and loneliness can now only chant _StilesStilesStiles_ in a steady pulse that seems to drown out everything else. He didn’t know he could fall so far into something until he realizes that Stiles could be his _and he’s going to lose it_.

He closes the door and walks back into the living room, painting clasped tightly in his hands and legs shaky. Lydia directs him a confused stare but he shakes his head. He can’t tell her, not yet.

***

Five hours later the house’s a mess and there’s a pile of tired bodies lying on his living room floor watching a movie.

Lydia looks up from where she’s resting her head on Malia’s shoulder, legs lazily tangled with Kira’s and Scott’s, and smiles softly at him. Derek bumps her with his foot and she laughs when Stiles grumbles about them roughhousing and takes Derek’s leg for hostage.

Derek doesn’t miss the way Lydia’s eyes widen when he doesn’t push Stiles away. And he sees the moment her lips purse when Derek’s hand comes to rest on top of Stiles’ head. It doesn’t bother him; They’re a family now, she should get ready for what’s to come.

***

Four weeks later there’s a strange energy in town. He feels it when he opens his eyes in the morning and the tangy smell in the air makes him want to vomit. At first he thinks it’s something about the new house he didn’t notice before until he catches sight of the seven missed calls on his phone.

Three are from Scott in the past hour and four from Stiles from five hours ago.

It must be serious then, because while Scott can’t now sleep through even the smallest of noises thanks to his Alpha status, Stiles should still be dead to the world at 9:15 AM. His heart races with the implications of the situation and bile rises on his throat.

He’s about to press call when a stronger wave of nausea punches him in the gut. He doubles over as his phone vibrates against his hand and the familiar picture of Lydia wearing a green beanie and a grey cardigan flashes on his screen.

“Ly—“

“He’s gone.” She cuts him off, her voice sounds agitated and like she’s on the verge of panic.

“Who’s gone?” He asks, even though he knows the answer.

His gut clenches and his breath leaves him in a rush as soon as the word “Stiles.” Leaves Lydia’s lips.

He knew it would be like this.

“Ho—When?” He croaks.

“This morning we think. Scott went to pick him up for that boy thing they do every year where they pretend everything’s fine and werewolves don’t exist and didn’t find him in his room. Said the bed was a mess and the window was wide open. Whoever took him knew the Sheriff wasn’t home and took the chance to kidnap him.”

Derek thinks of all the things he could say, the things he could promise to do but he does nothing like that. Because the nausea is finally settling into a humming in his bones and he knows what it means now.

“Derek?” Lydia asks, voice hesitant and concerned.

_Hey, it’s okay. I’m okay._

Stiles _is_ capable of gentleness, only with the people he cares about, and Derek will make sure that that gentleness stays alive for many years more.

“Derek what…?” She trails off and then gasps. “No.” He knew she’d understand.

“I’ll be right there.” He promises, making a run for the door still in his pajamas. Not even bothering to put on shoes.

“Derek stop!” She calls but it’s too late, he has to go “Derek be careful.” She pleads through the phone he can hardly hear anymore “I can’t lose you too.” She says and he pauses, turns around and grabs the phone again.

“I’m glad I met you.”  Is all he says before he hangs up the phone and runs out of the house.

***

He wonders, as he runs through the small patches of woods that run behind the houses in his neighborhood what kind of words Stiles has on his wrist. What is Derek supposed to tell him when it all comes to an end.

In the end he doesn’t have to wonder for long.

***

It was hunters.

It was always hunters, or someone’s psychotic relative, that screwed things up for Derek.

This time it was a group of Code-abiding nut-jobs trying to fix what “the Argents had been unable to handle”. They hid behind their laws and their right to avenge one of their own –Allison- who had been brutally murdered without anyone doing anything. He could feel anger and disgust radiating from Lydia and Scott and his hands itched with the need to move closer to them and _support_ , but that had never been his place and they had more important things to do now.

Scott tried to reason with them, told them about the Oni and the Nogitsune, explained in painful detail all their losses and how they managed to control the situation. But these people hadn’t come looking for an answer; they had walked into the town, taken their human out of their pack and threatened the Alpha with the clear intent of starting and finishing a fight. They weren’t leaving without blood being spilled on the ground.

The hunters lose their patience very easily; they’re a relatively new group, not used to working together or hunting more than a single prey. They’re cocky and careless and Derek knows how to deal with them, he just needs a distraction.

It comes in the shape of an arrow flying through the line of trees to their right. He knows beforehand for the sound that it’s the kind that’ll explode and confuse them. He thanks Chris Argent in his mind and then runs in the direction of the nearest hunter baring his teeth. It’s all a basic intimidation tactic, he doesn’t really plan on hurting her... the same thing can’t be said about her.

There’s a bullet on his shoulder before he’s made it halfway toward her, but he doesn’t stop. Bullets hurt like a bitch, but losing his window of opportunity would be idiotic at his point.

Around him the others follow him into the fight faster than they would’ve done in any normal circumstance. They are pack now and they’ll fight for each other no matter what.

Derek fights and threatens his way through the surprisingly large group of disorganized hunters, he can feel the bullets miss his skin by mere luck and as he bares his teeth he’s also made aware of the poison slowly drifting through his system from the ones that managed to penetrate his flesh. His blood is chanting Stiles’ name over and over again, and for a moment he swears that the only reason he’s still alive is because his blood refuses to carry the name and the wolfsbane at the same time. His need to get to Stiles buys him a little time to run from the fight –like a coward- and make it into the camp site where _he knows_ Stiles is trapped.

He reaches the border of a clearing just as Lydia’s first scream breaks the protective barrier around his ears and he’s made aware of the sounds of their pack clawing and killing to get to their lost member. His chest tightens at the sound but he knows she’s not screaming for _them_. Not yet. He still needs to know what words are scrawled across Stiles’ wrist, needs to ask whether Stiles knew, could he tell?

And he needs to do it now, because the venom in his blood is starting to make him clumsy and numb and _he needs to know before it’s too late_.

***

Stiles is covered in bruises and small cuts when he finds him but he’s alive. Derek’s not sure if _he_ will be for much longer. Every step he takes seems to suck a little more life out of him and in the back of his head he swears he can hear the sounds of Laura laughing.

 _Wait for me,_ he thinks. _I’m almost there._

He falls to his knees next to Stiles and then forces a small amount of life and strength into his hands to untie him, waits for Stiles to pull the makeshift gag out of his lips before he allows his body to drop almost lifelessly to the ground. There’s pain bursting in even intervals all over his body and he’s not sure he can feel his hands anymore. But Stiles is alive and the others are still fighting.

All is well.

“Derek!” Stiles calls out franticly, hands taking hold of his and they are cold, so cold, but Derek would want nothing more in his life than this.

“Stiles,” He whispers. Somewhere in this forest Lydia is calling his sister to let her know it is time… just not the way they imagined. “You’re okay.”

“I know I’m okay! _You’re not okay_!” He yells and Derek wants to laugh.

“I will be.”

Stiles chokes on a sob and Derek’s hand falls out of his grasp. Derek shakes as the chanting in his veins changes into something gentler and sadder and the wolfsbane starts to make its way into his heart.

Derek feels like he should be able to confess his feelings for Stiles, should be able to tell him that he fell for him ages ago, maybe even before Stiles proved that he could read him like a book and would always be there for him. But he can’t. His awareness of what is happening right now is enough to make him feel like he’s already taking too much from him.

Stiles deserves better.

But still, Derek feels it’s unfair he’s the only one to know about it, so he tries.

“Stiles I—“ But Stiles presses his forehead against his and stammers out a single stream of ‘Shush’ before he can get the proper words out.

“Don’t come to me with last words bullshit Derek. Don’t you fucking dare.” Stiles threatens and Derek snorts as much as he can because this is his Soulmate, capable of so much kindness and love but also capable of being a little shit.

“I love you.” He whispers a breath away from his lips just to annoy him and Stiles bursts into tears. He changes the positioning of his body to be able to hold Derek in his arms without pulling away from his face.

“I love you too, you asshole.” He sobs and Derek feels like a jerk because he’s taking this away from him.

He feels like a selfish idiot because he’s leaving a far deeper mark than he had previously intended and this will hurt him so much. He thinks of a younger version of himself, crying his soul out and then becoming a husk of his former self, swearing never to love again. He thinks of Lydia curled in his arms that night on the couch as she told him hers and Allison’s story, the way in which she bit right through her lips and her hands couldn’t stop shaking.

He thinks of their despair and then he thinks of how Stiles’ll cope with this all.

But then he remembers how strong they all are. How Stiles was able to overcome the death of his mother, how Lydia smiles at Cora through Skype and how his sister smiles at her in a way he’s never seen before.

People can heal. They just need to be given a chance. And Derek will give it to him.

“You’re strong, you’ll make it.” He says, and the arms around his body tighten almost to the point of pain “I’ve always admired your courage. I’ve always admired _you_. I know you’ll be fine.”

Stiles cries out sharply and hides his face in Derek’s neck.

“Fuck.” He gasps out “Fuck. Derek. I told you no last words bullshit. You’ll be fine.”

“I—“ He begins but a sound to their right distracts him.

He turns to look and sees Lydia and the rest of the pack standing on the outskirts of the clearing. He can feel in his bones the build-up of energy long before she opens her mouth and _screams_.

There’s no mistaking it now. All the hunters have been taken care of, there’s no one else with substantial wounds. Just Derek wasting away in Stiles’ arms.

 _“You’ll go to waste if you stay any longer.”_ Cora’s words come back to him, but in this moment, he thinks it’s not such a bad destiny.

Stiles’ body shakes against his and there’s cold seeping through his bones when Lydia runs towards them. He can see the cuts on her legs and arms, but she doesn’t seem that bothered by them. Mostly her eyes are focused on his face.

“Cora—“ He starts but she cuts him off.

“She knows, I called…” Her voice sounds raspy and wet and her hands are shaking where they’re gripping her skirt tightly.

“It’s okay.” He tries for gentleness but it is apparently the wrong thing to say. In less than a second he has a teary eyed Lydia kneeling beside him, one hand resting comfortingly against the side of his neck currently not being used by Stiles as a hiding spot.

He sees the rest of the pack making their way towards them at a sedate pace. He grimaces as his lungs seemed to be filled with water, and tries to cough to relieve the pressure.

Stiles moves away from him, changing his position to allow the others to see Derek. Stiles’ eyes are bright red and his face is still a mess of dirt, blood and bruises.

As soon as he has more breathing space, Lydia moves closer to him and with a shaky hand moves to brush a strand of hair away from his eyes and he smiles. He’s not sure he ever shared that particular detail with her but he knows she’s been talking to Cora and she must have shared some of their past family life with her.

He would’ve liked to stay to see how that would turn out. Cora and Lydia are good for each other, they don’t like sharing weaknesses and they both have a wicked sense of humor. He’s happy they’re getting along now.

 “Don’t cry.” Derek asks her once it becomes apparent that her hand won’t move away from his brow and she’s choking back tears. “Everything will be fine.”

He assures her and Stiles makes a desperate sound on the back of his throat.

Derek shifts his focus back to Stiles and frowns when he sees fresh blood trickling from a gash on his forehead. It seems like he can never keep the people he loves from getting hurt, even when he’s willing to die for them

As if sensing his train of thought Stiles shakes his head as Lydia says: 

“You saved him.” Using the same voice he used on her all those months ago. Like she’s proud and heartbroken at the same time. “You did it. You found him.”

Derek frowns.

“He’s hurt.” He rasps out.

“Hey, it’s okay. I’m okay.” Stiles sobs out redirecting the attention back to him and Derek feels a lazy smile curling his lips upwards.

“Yeah, you are.” He smiles, one hand aching to touch Stiles’ face and clean a smudge of dirt from his cheeks but he can’t, he’s not strong enough. “You’re perfect.” He breathes out and Stiles’ tears take care of the dirt more efficiently than he could have.

_Ah, so those were the words._

Is his last thought before he feels Laura’s arms curling protectively around his shoulders and his mother’s warm laughter washing over his body.

 _Thank you,_ he thinks, _I couldn’t do this without you._

**FIN**

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for taking the time to read this little piece of fiction.  
> (This story was inspired by a a tumblr post about how much it sucks to have your soulmate's last words on your skin)  
> Comments are always appreciated.


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